I’ve decided that I’m definitely not a June Cleaver or Martha Stewart as far as doing entertaining goes. I'm the only person I know that needs to keep a vacuum cleaner in the kitchen while baking. The days leading up to my open garden brunch held the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend was another one of Murphy’s Law.

My blueberries were coming in, so Friday night after getting off from work late, I started working on a blueberry sour cream coffee cake. My copy in my computer had part of an ingredient missing so I called Mom to get the amount and corrected it in my computer. At this point I’ll give you the recipe so that you can see my dilemma.

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time beating in between. Beat in vanilla. Combine and sift twice flour, baking powder soda and salt. Alternately add half of flour mixture to sour cream beat well and combine rest. Spoon third of batter into a greased and floured tube pan. Combine brown sugar, cinnamon and 1 T flour. Sprinkle half over batter. Top with half of berries. Add third of batter. Repeat layer cinnamon and then blueberries and next add blueberries. Top with rest of batter. Bake at 350O F for 55-65 minutes or until done. Cool 10 minutes before removing from pan.

Glaze

1 C powdered sugar2 to 3 T milk

Mix well and drizzle over cool cake.

I had just sifted the flour once and added the salt when Mom called and told me I needed to sift the flour twice, then measure the three cups needed for the recipe and then mix in the salt and soda as it would make a lighter cake. I thanked her and after getting off of the phone thought what do I do now, throw away the flour and start over or add the soda and continue? I added the soda and sifted it a second time, mixed everything else together and popped it in the oven.

The next morning, I got my dinner roll sausage casseroles into the oven, made grits, tea and got the coffee ready to turn on. Now to glaze the cake. I couldn’t find powdered sugar to make up the glaze. I debated walking over to Mom’s to borrow some or leave plain, when Gracie, my great friend from work came early to help. While she was slicing up the cake to place on the serving tray, I thought I should have listened to Mom; the cake wasn’t as moist as the one she makes.

The weather here has just been down right crazy. The middle of May I had to turn on the heat a couple of nights. The last week the temperatures have been in the high 90s and humid much like August weather. Even the Tennessee River has been steamy looking each morning as I cross over it and hazy looking in the afternoons. Getting pictures of my daylilies blooms after work has been fruitless; the sun is just eating them up, especially the dark red ones. If I get any pictures, it has to be before I leave for work with the sun barely up. I have a lot of potted daylilies that I separated and potted last fall that need to get back into the ground. What I have been able to get into the ground and mulched is shriveling up about as bad as the potted stuff. I planted several of a daylily called Tiger’s eye and a dwarf gardenia under my Auburn (doesn't that just say WAR EAGLE!?) logo sign at the corner of the driveway and garage. One of the hooligans has been digging a pig rooting hole close to some of the plants as I have been watering the area well. Hooligan protection was installed.Clean up from the straight line winds that caused a lot of tree and power line damage continues. One of the electrical poles down the road kept leaning more each day until they hooked up a truck to hold it upright. With all the storms and tornadoes there must be a pole shortage as 2 weeks later the truck is still holding up the pole. You think they could find a cheaper prop.

Patches has been breaking out at night chasing after something. I’m not sure if it’s Noah or a coyote, but she is not going to get shocked trying to get back in, so she waits at the end of the driveway for me to get up and let her back in. Friday morning I got ready to go to work and opened the blinds on the dining room only to see her laid out flat on her with her head in the ditch and dead looking. I tapped on the window, which is a signal to stop what ever you are getting into and she didn’t flinch a muscle, still dead looking. I jumped into my shoes contemplating where I was going to bury her in hard rock soil and opened the garage doors. About this time, Randall my neighbor drove by her going to work and started her upright and back on her feet. My dead dog was alive! I wanted to kill her myself. Saturday morning, there she was at the end of the driveway with her tongue hanging out grinning at me. Later she gets her fuzzy neck shaved.

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